


Reprieve and Revelations

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bilbo's world is rocked twice in one night, M/M, Smut, So much smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rivendell! Beautiful scenery, finely crafted architecture and an exceedingly gracious host. Also, in need of a good soundproofing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprieve and Revelations

Rivendell. The Hidden Valley. Imladris. The Last Homely House East of the Sea. 

Whatever it was called, it was the last place in Middle Earth that Thorin wanted to be. As he followed their Elf guide through the open hallways and up leaf strewn staircases, he struggled to keep the sneer off his face. The architecture was just so...rounded and delicate. Fine for Elves, perhaps, but Thorin was no Elf. He preferred sturdy, Dwarven architecture and the security of a mountain fortress. 

Still, if there was a silver lining to be had, it was a bed to sleep in, much preferable to the hard, cold ground, whoever may be offering the aforementioned bed. Also, the prospect of a full belly, however strange the fare may be. 

Thorin was not pleased that Gandalf had led them there, purposefully. If he didn't know better, he would have suspected that Gandalf put the Orcs up to driving them to the entrance of the Hidden Pass. The idea was ridiculous, of course, and yet, here they were. Now Thorin could hardly refuse Elrond's hospitality when it was so freely offered. 

He hated to admit it, but Gandalf was right about one thing. Elrond was no Thranduil. He was much more open, much more gracious. Still, it grated on Thorin's pride to accept help from the Elves, however unwillingly. So, he thought, he would take as much advantage of this pit stop as he could. And if he encouraged his Dwarves to be as rowdy as they felt the need to be...well, that was his prerogative, wasn't it? They were Dwarves, after all. Each of them was in possession of a voracious appetite for life.

Their Elf guide led them to a large, airy suite, a common room leading to a large outdoor balcony, with three doors that appeared to be leading to a pair of bedrooms and, from what Thorin could tell, a rather large bath. 

“My Lord has many such rooms, if you are so inclined to make use of them, however, he suggested that you may prefer to stay together, in one suite.” He indicated the doorways and continued, “there is a full bath and two bedchambers here, one of them with in suite facilities. If you would prefer to have more rooms...”

Thorin cut him off. “No thank you,” he said curtly. “This is more than sufficient.”

The Elf bowed. “Dinner will be ready in one hour. Please take the time to freshen up.” He left quickly, to the sound of several of the Company muttering under their breath about just what he meant to imply with that comment. Thorin couldn't blame the Elf, really. They were a rather ripe bunch, at the moment. 

He looked into the rooms, choosing the larger one with a built in bath and dropped his pack on the floor, shrugging off his surcoat and draping it over the bed in a blatant claim before moving back into the common room. 

“You heard the Elf, clean up,” he told the others. “There's plenty of room here for all of you, so claim a place and get some rest before dinner. Leave the other room for Gandalf, in case he deigns to join us.”

While the others dropped their things and began jostling for a place to sleep, Thorin grabbed Bilbo by the arm and tugged him into the room, closing the door firmly behind them. As Balin had confirmed to him, everyone knew about his...arrangement with Bilbo, so why bother trying to be discreet? It was better this way. This way, he could have Bilbo before dinner, and after. And all night. 

Thorin's stomach did a little flip at the prospect. 

He spared no time getting down to business. Bilbo had dropped his pack and turned to Thorin with a questioning gaze, but before he could speak Thorin took his mouth in a bruising kiss, one arm wrapped around Bilbo's back, drawing him close, troll snot or no, and the other buried in his hair. 

Bilbo returned the kiss eagerly, clinging to Thorin's shoulders, gripping Thorin's hair in his small hands. Thorin growled into his lips, he loved it when Bilbo tugged on his hair, loved it when Bilbo let his wanton desperation show. 

Then Bilbo pulled back, using his grip on Thorin's hair to end the kiss. Thorin growled again, and pulled him closer. 

“Thorin, wait,” Bilbo said, squeaking when Thorin's hand gripped his rear, pulling Bilbo's groin upwards to press into his.

“No, seriously,” Bilbo insisted, leaning back to avoid Thorin's questing lips. 

“What,” Thorin said impatiently, his hands moving over Bilbo's body, pushing his jacket off his shoulder with one hand while tugging at his shirt with the other. 

“Do you really think we should,” he tried again, though Thorin noticed he wasn't pulling away any further, in fact, his hands had slid down Thorin's chest and were tugging ineffectively at his buckle. “Everyone is right out there, surely they'll figure it out.”

Thorin laughed, shaking his head, not stopping his attempts at divesting Bilbo of his clothing. 

“Do you not think they all know exactly what is going on here?” he said, leaning in to lick the newly bared line of Bilbo's collarbone. He had such delicate bones, Thorin was amazed that he didn't just snap in half at the slightest pressure. 

“They...but, how?”

“We've hardly been discreet,” Thorin told him, continuing to unbutton Bilbo's shirt, one-handed. “Besides, I'm sure they figured it out immediately, before we'd left Bag End.”

Bilbo stilled, staring up in Thorin with wide eyes and a slack mouth. Thorin took a deep breath, imagining all the things he wanted to do with that mouth. 

“Surely you didn't think they were oblivious. You were hardly quiet that night, after all.”

“I...they heard us?” Though it seemed impossible, Bilbo's eyes grew even wider. “The first time?”

Thorin hummed in affirmation, pulling Bilbo's jacket and shirt completely off, running his hands over Bilbo's soft flesh, ensuring that there was no damage from their run in with the trolls. Besides being grungy with dirt and still sweaty from their frantic run for safety, Bilbo was unharmed. Thorin thought he might develop some bruises where the trolls had gripped his limbs, but as of yet there was no indications of them. 

“This is unconscionable,” Bilbo was saying, mostly to himself, it seemed. Thorin frowned. It didn't make any difference to him who knew, as long as they kept their fool mouths shut on the topic. Why make a fuss? 

Thorin took over where Bilbo's slack hands had left off, undoing his buckle and dropping it heedlessly to the floor. He pulled off his jerkin just as quickly, his tunic following it into a heap on the floor. 

“They really know?” Bilbo said, his face twisted in a frown. It was not the look Thorin wanted to see on his face just then. They had less than an hour until dinner, after all, so they'd better get to the 'freshening up'.

“Yes, they know,” Thorin snapped, reaching for Bilbo's trousers and pulling the fastenings loose, slipping them off by way of Bilbo's backside, a convenient way of pulling him closer in the process. 

“And you don't care?”

“Why would I?”

“Don't they care?”

“Only that they didn't get to you first,” Thorin said before lowering his lips to Bilbo's neck, gripping Bilbo's cheeks with greedy hands and pulling them apart, revelling in the moan he received as a result.

“What?” Bilbo squeaked, his mind coming back to him, pushing on Thorin's chest once more. Thorin sighed heavily, resting his head on Bilbo's shoulder and praying to Mahal for patience. 

“What do you mean, they didn't get to me first?” Thorin looked up to see Bilbo's stunned expression once more, knowing that he would have to deal with this if he wanted Bilbo's full attention. 

“Are you really naive enough to think that I'm the only member of the company who is attracted to you, Bilbo? I thought you were experienced in such things.”

“I am!” Bilbo insisted. “Only...with other Hobbits. I've never...with a Dwarf, or...”

“Good,” Thorin said, leaning in again and pulling the lobe of Bilbo's ear into his mouth, sucking fervently. 

“Which of them would possibly want me? I'm just a...well, I'm just a Hobbit after all. I'm hardly what moves a Dwarf to lust, am I?”

“And yet, here you stand, in the arms of a Dwarf who lusts for you very much,” Thorin said, huffing a breath, more than done with this line of communication. 

“Oh, well,” Bilbo said thoughtfully. “When you put it like that.”

“Are we going to talk about this right now? We've a soft bed and a private room, and no doubt we'll be called to dinner long before we're ready to leave it,” Thorin pointed out, pulling Bilbo close once more. “Do you want this, or not?”

Bilbo looked down, seemingly noticing his nakedness and Thorin's near identical state for the first time. 

“Oh, right,” he grinned up at Thorin, scraping his fingernails down Thorin's chest, eliciting a hiss. Thorin's cock, which had softened during Bilbo's questioning, filled with blood so fast his head spun. 

“Best be getting on with it, then.” Bilbo's fingers scratched up through Thorin's beard and into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Thorin went eagerly, lifting Bilbo up and moving toward the bed, slightly hampered by Bilbo's questing fingers, which had slid down his chest once more, turning their attention to Thorin's trousers. His legs hit the edge of the bed and he dropped Bilbo onto it abruptly, stripping himself of his remaining clothes and his boots, an action made quick by almost two centuries of repetition. He paused only to fumble in his coat, still laying across the foot of the bed, pulling out the vial of oil he had pilfered from Bilbo's bathroom when he'd set his mind to the course of action he was still following. 

Bilbo scrambled up the bed, Thorin crawling after him with a growl, slipping his free hand up Bilbo's leg and over his belly, giving his cock a squeeze on the way by, pleased to see that it was as eager to get on with things as Thorin's was. When he was close enough he leaned in to kiss Bilbo senseless, but was stopped, again, by Bilbo's firm hand on his chest. 

“No,” Bilbo said, his face set, determined. 

Thorin was King of the line of Durin, bold and noble, as unshakeable as the rock from which Mahal had carved his progenitor, and yet he was brought so horribly low by a small, soft creature of gentle, bendable demeanour. Thorin was a Dwarf, birthed from stone. Thorin would endure.

Thorin thought he was going to cry. 

 

* * *

 

Bilbo couldn’t help but smirk at Thorin's expression. Considering how determinedly Thorin had been trying to undress him, Bilbo could only imagine his frustration. 

“No,” he said again, pushing Thorin back and over, grateful that he went without complaint, sprawling onto his back. “It's my turn.”

“Oh?” Thorin said, interested again, his head lifting to gaze at Bilbo with lidded eyes. Bilbo took the vial from his hand and dropped it to the side before climbing on top of Thorin, straddling his middle. Thorin's bulky frame spread his hips wide, no doubt his thighs would ache after he was done.

Bilbo didn't care, distracted by Thorin grasping his hips tightly, the thought of his blunt fingers leaving a whole different kind of bruises on Bilbo's person did not deter Bilbo in the slightest. In fact, it spurned him on. He groaned as Thorin lifted his hips with a jerk, thrusting at Bilbo's welcoming flesh, holding him in place. Bilbo moaned, pressing down into Thorin just as eagerly, his pink cock bobbing above Thorin's navel. 

“Don't think I haven't noticed that you've hardly slept for days,” Bilbo said though panting breaths, as Thorin's movements continued, sending Bilbo’s blood surging through his already filled shaft. Bilbo gasped as an especially hard thrust brought the head of Thorin's cock to bear against his puckered entrance. 

“Besides,” Bilbo continued. “You spent the night fighting a battle with three trolls...hardly restful.”

“You didn’t sleep last night either,” Thorin pointed out, but Bilbo was not to be waylaid. 

“I did sleep both nights before that. So, you're going to let me do what I want, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Thorin said without pause. Bilbo was always stunned at the speed with which Thorin complied to his demands, though it still frustrated him that such a thing only happened in these moments, when Thorin was laid bare to him. Thorin rarely listened to him outside of those moments, keeping all his conversation and attention for the others, mostly his nephews and the sons of Fundin. Bilbo brushed the thought aside...he'd deal with that complaint in due course. He had a few complaints to bring up to Thorin, and he was thankful that, as Thorin seemed determined they would share a room for the duration of their stay, he'd have the opportunity to do so. 

“Good, now hold still.” Bilbo reached for the oil, pleased that Thorin did his best to comply, his hips stilling, although his hands were still locked on Bilbo's hips. Bilbo poured some oil out into his hand, huffing at what was left in the vial, which was to say, almost none.

With a sigh, Bilbo contemplated the dollop of oil in his palm. “Have we really gone through so much?” he asked.

“Clearly,” Thorin replied, shifting his hips up again, obviously hoping to spur Bilbo into action. His cock was hard against Bilbo's ass, his muscles shaking with forced restraint. 

“We'll have to get more,” Bilbo declared, finally lifting his hips and reaching back to slick himself. Considering the speed with which they had drained the vial, Bilbo knew it wouldn’t take more than a scarce few moments of preparation. 

Thankfully, he was correct. Before Thorin lost his patience and began pushing up at him again, Bilbo's hand slipped over Thorin's cock, slicking him with the remaining oil. He reached forward, giving his cock a few tugs before wiping the rest of the oil across Thorin's chest.

“Please,” Thorin begged hoarsely, his patience clearly evaporating at an alarming speed. Bilbo was of a like mind, not in any mood to delay longer. He lifted his hips once more, this time reaching back to secure Thorin's cock, ensuring that it slid home on the first push. 

Thorin's chest practically vibrated with his growl of satisfaction, while Bilbo could only gasp for breath at the immediacy of the intrusion. Thorin was quite big, by Hobbit standards, and while Bilbo was well used to it by now, they'd never done it at this angle, and he'd been unprepared for just how deeply Thorin would fill him from this position. 

Thorin's hips began to move at once, but Bilbo stopped him with a yelp, bracing both hands on his chest and lifting himself off, just a little. 

“Wait,” he said, hanging his head and taking deep breaths as his body became accustomed to the stretch. “Just let me...” he trailed off, pushing himself down again. Thorin grunted, and his grip on Bilbo's hips tightened, almost to the point of pain. The burn of stretched skin and muscle clenched around Thorin's cock eased and soon he was ready to continue. 

“Okay. Now,” he said, lifting up again, but Thorin had other ideas. He instantly set to a fast, brutal rhythm, pulling Bilbo down as he thrust upward, making Bilbo cry out loudly. He leaned back, his hands gripping Thorin's upraised knees for dear life, but the angle only increased the assault, as Thorin's cock was now pounding roughly inside him, hitting the spot that sent sparks of pleasure into him with each thrust, sparks that flew from his spine to the rest of his body. The sensations were excruciating, made all the more intense as his untouched cock slapped Thorin's belly and then his over and over, alternating with each thrust and pull.

“Thorin,” he cried, unable to keep his voice down as his body, already nigh on exhausted, was quickly being pushed past all endurance.

“Yes!” Thorin growled in return, as unsuccessful as Bilbo at holding back, and Bilbo could only hope that the soundproofing in Rivendell was better than at Bag End. 

Bilbo gave a shout as his climax crashed over him without warning, any hope of restraint lost in the power of the wave that overtook him. His battered hole clenched around Thorin's cock as his release was scattered across his chest and the bed, but Bilbo was beyond caring. His muscles went limp, leaving him at Thorin's mercy, a notion unfamiliar to the Dwarf when he was buried inside Bilbo. Or anywhere near him, for that matter.

It took only seconds after Bilbo had finished for Thorin to do the same, his hips stuttering into an awkward rhythm as he spent himself, his own yell of completion equally as loud as Bilbo's, their mirrored gasps soon filling the room as the fleshy sounds of their joining ceased. 

Bilbo found himself collapsing onto Thorin's chest, unable to hold himself upright any longer, the toll on his body too much to endure. Thorin made no move to dislodge him, his chest heaving with each gasping breath, his hands slipping from their hold on Bilbo's hips and onto the bed beside him, even as his slowly softening cock slipped out of Bilbo, leaving him aching with the loss.

It was long moments before either of them could speak, and Bilbo found himself wishing they could just skip dinner and stay, this time washing themselves before starting anew. Bilbo didn't want to waste the chance of the bed, despite his earlier protests. 

Just as he was pushing himself upward, wrinkling his nose at the state he was in, three loud knocks came at the door, followed by a very amused voice.

“If you two are finished in there, you'd better make another attempt at freshening up,” Dwalin said, and Bilbo fell into Thorin's chest again, remembering their earlier conversation with a flush of embarrassment. “The hour's almost done,” Dwalin added.

Bilbo groaned in mortification, sure that his cheeks were bright red. 

“We'll be right out,” Thorin said brusquely, leaning up to breathe deeply into Bilbo's hair before lifting him up and to the side. Bilbo flopped, boneless, onto the bed beside him, but neither made a move to get out of the bed. 

“Do we have to go out there?” Bilbo asked, voice no louder than a whisper, wondering just how much everyone had heard. His question was answered when his stomach took that opportunity to grumble loudly, and Thorin let out a bark of laughter. 

“Yes, Master Baggins, I believe we do,” Thorin said regretfully, but with a merry laugh, sitting up, pulling himself off the bed and striding across the room to the alcove that served as the room's bath facilities. He washed himself with perfunctory motions, out of time for anything else or uncaring, Bilbo wasn't sure. Bilbo had managed to work himself into a sitting position and had just thrown his legs over the bed when Thorin approached, standing Bilbo up before performing the same hasty ablution on Bilbo himself. He wiped Bilbo's face and neck first, rinsing the cloth in a basin before cleaning Bilbo’s chest and belly, moving at last to wipe his cleft.

Bilbo hissed as the tender flesh objected, despite Thorin's gentle touch. 

“Thank you,” he said as Thorin pulled back, surprised when the Dwarf leaned in for a kiss, his large hand cupping Bilbo's face tenderly as he pulled Bilbo's bottom lip into his mouth, scrapping it gently with his blunt teeth before letting go. 

“Better get dressed before Dwalin comes back,” he said gruffly, stalking off to his pack, digging into it for his comparatively clean clothes and pulling them on with haste. 

Bilbo frowned, moving to retrieve his pack as well, confused as he so often was after they were through. Thorin was always passionate when they came together, he was a generous and athletic lover, and surprisingly, he showed flashes of true tenderness, fleeting though they were. And yet, he made up for that tenderness by treating Bilbo with brusque efficiency afterwards and then all but ignoring him until the next time they had an opportunity. 

Bilbo huffed in displeasure. He was hardly wishing for a love match, such an idea was preposterous given their respective situations, and he wasn't inclined to indulge at any rate. Thorin's personality was as far from compatible with his as he could get, and yet Bilbo had hoped that by now Thorin would at least grace him with a pretence of friendliness. 

There was a sudden burst of laughter from the adjoining room, and Bilbo flushed again, reminded of their fellows who waited, no doubt eagerly, for their appearance. Thinking of the other Dwarves reminded Bilbo of their earlier conversation, his cheeks heating further as he pondered who exactly Thorin had been alluding to. 

“Who were you talking about earlier?” he asked, unable to control his curiosity.

“Hmm?” Thorin replied, and Bilbo rolled his eyes. There were moments when Thorin was a shining example of his race, his gruff reticence pouring through at the most inopportune times. 

“When you said some of the others might be jealous.”

“You really don't know?”

“No, I really don't.”

Thorin turned to look at him, fully dressed, minus the coat that was now pooled on the floor, dislodged from the bed during their strenuous coupling. 

“What does it matter? None of them will make a move on you now,” he said, turning back to the sink and wetting his hands, running them through his hair in an attempt to subdue it.

“That's beside the point,” Bilbo replied, moving to follow Thorin's example. No doubt his hair was an absolute disaster, trolls, wargs and running, running, running not in the too distant past. “I'm curious and a Hobbit's curiosity is persistent.”

Thorin sighed, bracing his hands on his hips and lifting his eyes to the sky. “Alright then. Bofur, for one.”

“What?” Bilbo yelped, eyes wide in shock. “But he's my friend.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “And you can trust me when I tell you that, given the chance, he'd like to be a lot _friendlier_ than is currently his lot.”

“But, he...” Bilbo trailed off, thinking of how quickly Bofur had befriended him, before Thorin had arrived at Bag End, and, notably less avidly, after. He still sought Bilbo out often, for which Bilbo had been grateful, thinking that Bofur's friendly, outgoing manner and curiosity was the only reason. 

“Who else?” he asked, closing his eyes and bracing himself for Thorin's reply. 

“Well, there's Ori, who looks at you as if you'd hung the moon, although considering my experience with your proclivities, most likely you'd not be a compatible match in such a way. Nori would probably take you on, if only for a tumble...I doubt he's ever refused a willing partner. The same could be said for Bifur, as a matter of fact. He would match your appetites much more readily, I imagine.” 

Bilbo let out a sound that could only be described as a 'meep', but Thorin either didn't hear or ignored it, continuing down what was becoming a shockingly long list. 

“Fili and Kili would take you on in a heartbeat, probably between them...” 

“Between...” Bilbo breathed, his mind spinning with the implications. 

“Between,” Thorin repeated. “It's not uncommon for brothers to share partners, or even to experiment with each other as they mature, in anticipation of future lovers. Is it not so with Hobbits?” 

Bilbo shook his head dumbly, trying desperately to clear his chaotic brain. “I don't even know what to think about that,” he said at last, stunned to the point of insensibility. 

“Oh, and of course, Dwalin,” Thorin finished, sitting on the bed and pulling on his boots, fastening the multitude of straps with shocking ease. 

“Dwalin!” Bilbo squeaked. Just when he'd thought he could no longer be shocked, Thorin threw Dwalin's name out with a blatant casualness. 

“Indeed. He'd not be adverse to getting you under him, in fact, I'm certain that he'd match you quite as well as I have. I've experienced his...enthusiasm myself. ” 

Bilbo leaned against the wall, feeling a bit lightheaded. “He...you...” he stuttered, his mouth unable to form the words flowing through his mind. 

“Blood brothers or shield brothers, it's all the same amongst young Dwarrows,” Thorin said, standing up, fully dressed and ready for dinner, moving towards the door as if he hadn't just rocked Bilbo’s world. Again. 

“I'd, I, uh...I'd no idea so many Dwarves were inclined towards the same sex.” He knew for a fact that Hobbits weren't, as a rule. Some were up for a bit of tweenish experimentation, though Bilbo had never heard of such a thing occurring between siblings, but most settled into a life of respectable heterosexuality before reaching their majority, getting married and churning out a plethora of fauntlings, post haste. It had been quite a few years since Bilbo had last had a partner, perhaps that had played a part in his willingness to throw himself into Thorin's hands. 

“Generally, they're not. But we are cursed with a dearth of females, and while it doesn't bother us in the grand scheme of things, many of our race being married to our crafts, as it were, we still have urges.” 

“Oh,” Bilbo said faintly, head still spinning from an over abundance of information. 

“Ready?” Thorin asked, looking Bilbo over, not waiting for an answer before opening the door. Bilbo followed him out, forgetting about the inevitable audience until a loud cheer jolted him back into awareness. 

Many of the assembled Dwarves were laughing and clapping, giving Bilbo and Thorin an enthusiastic indication of just how loud they had been. Bilbo prayed to all the Valar that the earth would open up and devour him, anything to spare him the humiliation at hand. 

Cries of, “well done,” and “way to give it yer all,” were sent in his direction, Bilbo's only response was to bury his head in his hands and wail into his palms. 

“Enough!” Thorin bellowed, the room falling into immediate silence, though Bilbo heard a few lingering snickers. “Leave it alone, you imbeciles. Unless you'd like us to return the favour.” 

The room settled into complete silence as each of the others tried to make himself invisible to Thorin's roving gaze. All except Dwalin, who met his glare head on and said, “if any of us were as vociferous about our business, I'm sure you would.” 

Thorin's glare intensified as the guffaws began anew. Bilbo was sure he would retaliate, but he only shouldered Dwalin roughly as he stalked to the door, slamming it open to the shock of the Elf outside, his hand raised to knock. He stepped back quickly, no doubt grateful for his Elvish reflexes as Thorin passed, not sparing him a glance. 

The rest followed, still chuckling, slapping Bilbo on the back heartily, once again free with the encouraging if rather vivid comments now that Thorin had left. 

“You alright?” Bofur asked, staying back once the rest had gone, his hand on Bilbo's shoulder no longer the comfort he'd no doubt intended. 

Bilbo looked up at him, eyes wide as he saw his friend clearly for the first time. Bofur's eyes were gentle with concern, but Bilbo imagined he could see another gleam within them. He shook his head, trying hopelessly to put the thought out of his head. 

“I will be,” Bilbo replied, heading toward the door with Bofur beside him, his movements hampered by the ache in his backside and the twinge in his thighs. No doubt he'd not be sitting comfortably tonight. 

“I imagine it'll take a while to recover from that display,” Bofur said cheerfully, chuckling as he followed Bilbo, heading in the direction indicated by the attending Elf. 

“Do we have to speak of it?” Bilbo asked desperately, wondering if his cheeks would be permanently stained red after tonight. 

“It's hard not to,” Bofur replied. “You two put on quite the show.” Bilbo risked a glance at him, no longer able to mistake the gleam in his eyes. 

“How is this my life?” Bilbo asked, throwing his eyes to the heavens with an unspoken plea for mercy. 

“You shouldn't be embarrassed, Bilbo,” Bofur said, clapping his shoulder once more. “It's been a very long time, or so I've heard, since Thorin has taken the opportunity to mine his family jewels, so to speak. Many have tried to tempt him, but none have succeeded until now. You should be proud.” 

Bilbo stared at Bofur with an expression that his face would no doubt freeze in, if his Aunt Donnamira was correct, for the amount of times it had overtaken his features that evening. 

“Oh Bilbo, you certainly are refreshing. Anyone else would proclaim such a conquest from the mountaintop.” 

“Thorin is hardly a conquest,” Bilbo insisted with a sigh. 

“Oh really?” 

“It's not like that, Bofur,” Bilbo continued. “It's not like it's a love match or anything. We're just...” 

“Fucking?” Bofur supplied. 

Bilbo clenched his eyes together so tight it hurt, hoping it would erase the entire evening from his memory. Well, except the part between the far too illuminating, and numerous, conversations. 

“If you must put it that crudely, yes.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes!” Bilbo declared. “He's not a very likeable person, is he? Not on a more personal level.” 

“It doesn't get much more personal than that, from what I heard,” Bofur observed with a leer. 

“Oh, that's just sex,” Bilbo said with a huff. “I could do that with anyone...” 

“Indeed?” Bofur cut in, eyebrows lifted with sudden interest. 

“Not that I would,” Bilbo assured him quickly. “One partner at a time is plenty, thank you very much.” 

“Ahh, I understand.” Bofur nodded thoughtfully. “Besides, Thorin would kill me if I tried anything.” 

“What?” Bilbo said, stopping to stare at his friend, alarmed by the confirmation of Thorin's assertion, positive that he would never be able to look at his friend the same way again. Nor several other members of their party. 

“You know what, forget it,” he said, changing his mind, continuing toward where ever the Elf was leading them. The Elf, it occurred to Bilbo, who must be overhearing every word they spoke. 

Bilbo had never been so grateful to see tables set for dinner in his life, and that was saying something. He was a Hobbit, after all. And yet, when their guide gestured them onto the terrace meant for that purpose, Bilbo almost cried with relief. 

* * * 

Bilbo slipped into the empty spot beside Balin, grateful for the fact that he, at least, hadn't been on Thorin's list. When Fili took up the empty place beside him, he couldn't help but shift a bit toward the older Dwarf. Fili didn't seem to notice however, throwing his arm around Bilbo's shoulders, in a way that had never unsettled Bilbo before but did now. 

“Bilbo, you've earned my never ending respect tonight,” Fili said, his lips curved in a cheeky grin. 

“Oh, get off,” Bilbo said, flushing, shoving Fili away as hard as he could manage. Fili only laughed harder, joined by the others around the table. Fortunately, they were soon distracted by the food, presented to them by a seemingly endless line of smooth, unsmiling Elves. As fascinating as Bilbo found the Elves, the Dwarves were far more...robust. In appearance and behaviour. 

He shifted carefully in his seat as the meal went on, unable to ignore the pangs from his more tender parts, though he succeeded in pushing speculative thoughts of his friends from his mind. When Thorin left his place with Elrond and Gandalf, drifting around the table before taking up a spot opposite Bilbo, a spot where he could, and did, level Bilbo with a heated look, the twinge took on a very different quality. 

He was willing to forgive Bofur anything when he distracted Thorin by climbing atop a plinth breaking into a round of boisterous song. The ensuing food fight seemed to call an end to the meal, finally allowing Bilbo a chance to make his escape, which he did, rising unnoticed for the table and slipping away hurriedly. 

He had an awful lot of information to process this night. 

**Author's Note:**

> omg, I cannot believe this. I spent all day driving, shopping and at dr's appointments, so when I started this chapter this evening, I was sure it would take days to complete. Apparently not. I went to bed early last night, and this is the result. 
> 
> That said, the drive helped me form some plans, and I have a plot firmly in mind for the next little while, even an ending! Woo! Enjoy your early morning serving of smut.


End file.
